Mingo's Lesson
by highland laurel
Summary: Reposted story: When Francis Clover loses his voice the citizens of Boonesborough learn valuable lessons from an unlikely source.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Daniel was seated at his own table, trying to figure a way out of the dilema that Francis Clover had created once again. The schoolmaster was beside him, glumly trying to speak. His case of laryngitis was no better than it had been Saturday morning, and now on Sunday evening Daniel was facing a choice of either closing the school in Boonesborough until the schoolmaster's voice returned, or finding someone else to teach the rowdy bunch of settlement children until Mr.Clover was once again able. 

Rebecca was giving him no help. She sat in her chair before the fire, calmly sipping a last cup of tea. Her pretty face wore a look that indicated she found the situation funny. Her one bit of advice was that Daniel himself should rise to the occasion and teach the children tomorrow. That suggestion was very firmly rejected by the tall frontiersman, whose idea of teaching was to take Israel out fishing for a day.

Just at this opportune moment a knock sounded on the door. It was a flat-handed slap. The only person who knocked like that was Mingo, and Daniel leaped off the table bench and reached the door in one stride. He pulled the Cherokee into the candlelit room with gratitude, as though the tall Indian was a gift from heaven. And indeed it was possible that he was.

"Mingo, have you ever considered teachin'? I mean, a whole school room full of eager learners? All in the same room with you? For several hours?" Daniel's eyebrows were traveling up and down, his eyes sparkling with his effort to make his questions appealing. Mingo stood in the center of the room, his coat still tied and his gun still in his hand. Rebecca had better manners.

"Dan! Let the poor man at least sit down before you bombard him with all those questions! Hello, Mingo. Come in and have a last cup of tea with me."

"Oh,yeah. Hello, Mingo. Come in and sit a spell." Dan echoed his wife's words but remained standing, hovering around Mingo like a bee around a honeysuckle bush. Mingo's eyes were wary and his eyebrows were raised questioningly. He leaned his gun against the wall, hung his coat on a peg beside the door, and accepted the teacup and saucer from Rebecca's hand. When he seated himself on the bench opposite Mr. Clover, he greeted the schoolmaster politely. Mr. Clover waved his hand in a return greeting and continued to sit silently, a troubled look on his face.

"Is something wrong, Daniel? Mr. Clover?" Mingo's voice betrayed a hint of alarm.

"Yes there is, Mingo. Glad you asked," Daniel replied. "Mr. Clover's lost his voice. Can't speak a syllable. And prob' bly won't be able to say a word by tomorrow neither. Cincinnatus has been doctorin' him since yesterd'y, but so far nothing is workin'. If I can't find someone to take his place in the next hour, I'll have to go into the fort and post a notice of 'no school' on the schoolhouse door. You don't know of anyone who'd be willin' to fill in as schoolmaster tomorrow, do you?" Daniel looked pointedly at his friend, whose eyebrows rose so high that they nearly disappeared behind the black fringe of hair on his forehead.

"Me? Daniel, you can't be serious. You know full well that this community wouldn't accept me teaching their children no matter what evidence there was of my ability to do the same. "

"I'm talkin' about one day, Mingo. Just one day. By the time everyone found out it was you teachin', the day would be over and Mr. Clover would be back on Tuesday. "

"And what is to keep the good folk from storming in and shooting me, if I may ask?"

"Oh, Mingo! No one in this settlement would shoot you," Rebecca broke in.

Mingo glanced at her with a look that said he remained unconvinced. She rose and walked behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "I think Dan has a truly inspired idea. You know how much Israel and Jemima love learning from you. And as Dan says, it is only for one day. Mr. Clover can give you all the materials you will need, and you and he can work out a schedule for the day. What could possibly go wrong?"

Mingo turned his head to look at Becky. "Rebecca, you have no idea." 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Against his better judgment Mingo let himself be persuaded to assume the role of schoolmaster on Monday. Daniel and Francis worked out a schedule for him to follow, filling every minute with something so that the children would all be occupied for the entire day. There would be four classes of reading and recitation, four spelling classes, four classes of mathematics, a geography class, a Latin class, a class in Greek and Roman history, a drawing class and a music class. The students would arrive at 8:00, break for lunch at 12:00, and return for afternoon lessons from 1:00 until 3:00. 

Mr. Clover assured Mingo that if he survived the first hour, he would survive the entire day. The Cherokee remained skeptical, but was secretly glad to be given the opportunity. He had always been a natural teacher, and wondered at idle moments if he could actually control a classroom. And now he was being given a chance to experiment.

He rose early and pulled on the clothing that he had worn when he traveled to Logan's Fort to check on the situation involving Craw Greene. He tied his long, thick hair back with one of the thongs that usually bound his braids. When he sat down at the Boone breakfast table Israel couldn't take his eyes off of the spectacle. Blunt as always, Israel spoke his mind.

"Mingo, what are you doin'? You ain't goin' to go back to Logan's Fort, are ya? I thought you'd stay here at least a couple a days and take me fishin'." The disappointment was plain in the little boy's voice.

Mingo gave the boy a loving look and replied. "Israel, I am experimenting today. I am attempting to answer a question that I have had about myself for a long time. And you are going to help me."

"I am? How?" The little boy's blue eyes sparkled at the thought of helping Mingo do anything. The bond between the man and boy was very strong, and Israel counted the time with Mingo as some of the happiest that he had ever spent.

"You are going to help me be a teacher today. I will be taking Mr. Clover's place since he cannot speak."

Israel's face fell and his entire body slumped. "You mean you are goin' to go to school? On purpose?"

"Yes, Israel. I am going to school. On purpose." Mingo smiled tenderly at the glum little boy. "And I hope that you will look back on this day with fond memories. " 

"And I hope that I do too," he silently whispered to himself. 

Arriving at the school house nearly an hour before the children, Mingo surveyed his new kingdom. It was a rough cabin twelve feet by ten feet near Cincinnatus' tavern. The blackboard was small, only about three by four feet and placed so that Mr. Clover could easily reach it. This meant that it was far too short for Mingo. He saw that he would have to bend to make much use of it. Well, one problem wasn't too much to overcome.

He opened the two windows for ventilation and light. The benches were neatly placed in front of the blackboard. There were four of them, about eight feet long. The front bench was very short, indicating that the smallest students sat there. Mr. Clover had given him a class list and in his mind Mingo sat the children around the room. There was a water bucket in the back. Mingo took it to the well and filled it. One of the settlers, Mrs. Nelson, happened to see him as she came out of her cabin. A little nearsighted, she wasn't sure who the tall man was who entered the schoolhouse several feet away, but she knew that it was not Francis Clover. Intrigued, she stepped to the cabin next door and began to question the lady of the house. Soon the buzz began to spread.

Inside the school room, Mingo continued his preparations. Mr. Clover had given him copies of all the textbooks that he would need, and he had spent hours the previous night pouring over the volumes to ready himself for the scholars. The Latin, geography, history, reading and spelling were no problem for him. Mathematics was. He never did like to solve math problems. Though possessing a very agile mind, Mingo thrived on language. How to figure angles or solve equations didn't interest him in the least. Fortunately, the math classes were after lunch so he felt that he could slight them a bit if need be.

He moved to sit down and review his class schedule. A new problem presented itself. The chair was suited to someone of Mr. Clover's size, and Mingo did not fit easily. The chair was far too short for his long legs. When he sat behind the desk, which was also short, he could not fit his knees under the desk. Well, two problems were not too many to deal with. He just would not sit behind the desk to hear recitations. He would lean his tall frame against the desk. 

He stood beside the desk, leaned far over, and studied the texts that he would need to begin the day. Spelling came first, and he was a natural speller. So feeling somewhat at ease, he was not too upset when the first pupils arrived nearly 15 minutes early. 

August, Emil, Hans and Oscar Himmel lived nearly two miles beyond the fort. Their industrious parents did not believe in too much education so the boys had spotty attendance and were therefore far behind their peers. Each boy was large for his age and this presented a problem when they were called upon to recite with their class. They were naturally embarrassed to be placed with smaller, younger children and as a result their behavior suffered. Of all the children that Mingo would face, these four were the most cause for concern. And here they were, early.

The boys looked around the room, searching for Mr. Clover. Obviously at a loss and thinking the change had occurred while they were absent, the boys looked at each other and shrugged. Mingo walked calmly toward them. August, the eldest, looked up and spoke for his siblings.

"Where's Mr. Clover? Ain't he goin' to be teachin' us no more?"

Mingo unconsciously corrected the boy's language. " 'Isn't he going to teach us', August. Mr. Clover will be teaching you tomorrow. I am here today because he has temporarily lost his voice."

The four boys exchanged sly looks. August beckoned his brothers outside. Mingo declined to follow them, creating the third problem for the day, though he did not know it at the time.

Ten minutes later the entire enrollment was inside the little classroom. There were fourteen boys and six girls. Their ages ranged from two five year old boys to two fifteen year old children, Jemima Boone and Jason Anderson. The front bench was occupied by Pauley McCarthy and Chuckie Custer. Behind them sat Israel Boone, Christopher Custer, Pip Smallwood, Oscar Himmel and his brother Hans. On the third bench sat Molly and Dolly McCarthy, Callie Custer, Thaddeus and Abraham Smallwood, and Emil Himmel. On the back bench were Jemima Boone, Catherine Custer, Jason Anderson, Josiah and Nathaniel Smallwood, and August Himmel. 

Twenty sets of eyes were riveted on the tall Cherokee standing before them. A man of great courage and daring, he was finding himself unexpectedly fainthearted. The complete silence in the room was unsettling and the fixed gaze of twenty children unnerved him more than the fierce gaze of a black bear. He nervously cleared his throat and began.

"Good morning, children."

"Good morning," they echoed. Silence filled the room once again.

"Mr. Clover has lost his voice, and I will be your teacher today," Mingo stammered.

Again silence reigned in the small room. The eyes continued to stare at him. He rubbed his hands down the sides of his legs in his typical nervous gesture. 

"Yes, well, let's begin, shall we?" Mingo's voice was pitched higher than normal, and Israel frowned. He glanced sideways at his friend Christopher, who glanced back and shrugged. Mingo was known to the entire room of children, but only Israel and Jemima had ever been this close to him. Anything new was welcome to the frontier children, and each fertile mind was now occupied in thoughts most unscholarly. 

Mingo checked his schedule from Mr. Clover and announced to the class, "First spelling class, come forward please."

The other children sat and watched as Chuckie and Pauley remained seated exactly where they were. Mingo glanced at the room of children, puzzled. Not understanding the problem, he frowned. The expression transmitting disapproval made the two little boys grasp the bench and slump down. In the back, August Himmel guffawed. Mingo shot a disapproving look at the tall German boy and the boy sent a challenging look right back. 

Rising to his full height, Mingo again called the first spelling class. His towering, dark appearance further unsettled the two little boys, and Chuckie began to cry. Totally unnerved, the tall Cherokee stared at the tears running down the little pale face. Beside Chuckie little Pauley began to sniff. Jemima set her lips and raised her hand. Mingo saw the movement at the back of the room and nodded to Jemima.

"Sir, may I talk to you please?"

Mingo nodded and the small pioneer girl rushed to the front of the room and faced her friend. "They're scared of you. They don't know you and you are so tall that they're intimidated. They're used to Mr. Clover."

Mingo stared down into Jemima's blue eyes. He raised his eyebrows in a questioning gesture familiar to Daniel's daughter. Jemima answered him softly, "Get Mr. Clover's chair and sit down in front of them. Be sure to talk real soft and they'll be alright." She smiled encouragingly and turned. Then she faced her friend once again and said, "Get everybody else busy first, though, or the others will cause trouble because they're bored."

Mingo nodded his thanks and looked over the schedule that Francis had given him. It suddenly occurred to him that Mr. Clover had made many, many assumptions as he wrote out the document before him. The subjects were listed in order, and the times, but no mention had been made of occupying non-reciting students. Mingo froze as the realization formed in his mind. What could he give the other eighteen students to do while he listened to the two crying little boys?

Minutes passed and the children naturally began to fidget and whisper. Mingo understood that he must do something quickly, but what? Suddenly he had an inspiration. He could solve both the fidgeting and the crying in the same way. A spelling bee!

Smiling in relief, he faced the roomful of children.

"Students, we will have a spelling bee. I want you to number yourselves as one's or two's and make two lines, one down the east wall and one down the west wall. You may number yourselves now."

The children complied, some with good humor and some with grumbling. The two little boys had both numbered themselves 'ones', and Mingo had to adjust the lines accordingly, but the minor problem was easily overcome. His heart beating more slowly as his instruction produced results, he took the speller and pronounced the first word.

"Cat," he directed to Pauley McCarthy. 

"Dog," the little boy replied.

Several of the older boys guffawed at the answer. Pauley began to cry again. Mingo sighed and dropped his head. Pauley began to sob as he read Mingo's body language as disapproval once again. Pauley's sister Molly began to cry in sympathy. So did Chuckie Custer. Pip Smallwood grasped Molly's hand in sympathy. August Himmel poked Josiah Smallwood with the blunt edge of his pocketknife. Josiah punched August. Emil responded by pushing Josiah. Josiah pushed Emil back, and the boy lost his footing and fell against Callie Custer. She tipped into Israel Boone, who tripped Dolly McCarthy. Dolly fell and hit her head on the edge of Mr. Clover's desk. She began to cry as the blood from the cut above her eye dripped down her cheek. And it was only 8:30.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jemima dabbed the blood off of Dolly and used the little girl's handkerchief to hold against the cut until it stopped bleeding. The spelling bee eventually began and the students performed as the teacher expected until the last round. Josiah Smallwood faced Catherine Custer across the room. 

"Relinquish," Mingo pronounced. Catherine spelled the word correctly.

"Mystery." 

"H i s t o r y, " Josiah spelled. 

"That is incorrect, " Mingo intoned. He shut the speller with a slap and nodded his congratulations to Catherine. But Josiah was not going to take defeat gracefully.

"I spelled it right! H i s t o r y. History!"

"The word was 'mystery', not history. You spelled 'history' correctly, Mr. Smallwood. But the word I pronounced was 'mystery'."

"You said 'history'. I know you did." Josiah was embarrassed at being beaten by a girl two years younger, and he was intent on finding someone to blame for his error. His face was red with anger. He knew from experience with Mr. Clover that if he bellowed enough, Mr. Clover would back down. The boy was about to discover that such tactics did not work with everyone.

Mingo beckoned the boy to the front of the room. When the boy did not budge, Mingo covered the six feet between them in two strides. He towered over Josiah, his eyes locked on the boy's. Without a word, the man stared into the boy's eyes. Josiah felt the power behind the look, and he dropped onto the back bench without another word.

"See me before you go home for the noon meal," Mingo said quietly.

The other pupils were all watching the confrontation uneasily. Everyone had gone back to their position on the benches and were waiting for the next subject to be called. According to Mr. Clover's schedule, it would be reading. Again Mingo was confronted with the task of keeping several students busy while he heard a small group read. As he thought about the problem, his eyes happened to fall upon a volume containing Shakespeare plays. Inspiration sprang into his mind and he took the volume into his hands and faced the room of children.

"Today, students, we will read and act out one of Shakespeare's plays. Does anyone know any play written by William Shakespeare?" All the eyes were again riveted uncomfortably on his face. He swallowed and addressed Israel Boone.

"Israel, do you know any play written by William Shakespeare?" Mingo's eyes conveyed his expectation that Israel did indeed have an answer. The little boy frowned and shook his head.

Mingo's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Why, Israel, remember Macbeth? I loaned it to you several weeks ago. "

Israel blushed a dark red and dropped his eyes. Mingo immediately recognized his blunder in singling out the little boy, but the damage was already done. Several of the larger boys tittered and poked each other. Israel knew that he would be the butt of jokes now for several weeks. The other boys would probably call him 'Shakespeare' or 'Macbeth'. He clenched his fists at the sting that he knew he would have to endure. He never expected Mingo to betray him like that. His eyes stung with quick tears which he blinked away before anyone could see. But Mingo saw and his heart ached.

He still had a classroom full of children that needed instruction, so he compartmentalized the blunder into the far reaches of his mind and continued.

" 'Macbeth' is a good play to work on today. Since we only have one copy, we will have to take turns reading. After we finish, we will pick a few pages to act out. I will begin. The play is set in Scotland many years ago ..." Mingo painted verbal pictures of the setting and the students settled down to listen to the exciting tale. The man's deep voice read the story of murder and revenge and the small room in the rough settlement on the frontier of Kentucky faded away to become the misty highlands of Scotland. 

He moved easily around the room as he read, and the children's eyes followed him. He read expressively and naturally, and every child in the room was taken into the story. When he paused to get a drink from the bucket in the back of the room, several children groaned. Surprised and secretly very pleased, he asked if someone else would take up the reading. Nathaniel Smallwood volunteered, and though he stumbled over some of the long passages the story continued. Jemima Boone read several pages, then Jason Anderson took up the tale. They finished after more than an hour of reading. The children were stiff from sitting on the long benches and Mingo allowed them a ten minute break to use the privy out back, get a drink from the bucket and just visit with each other. He could hear snatches of conversation and he was very encouraged to hear the children discussing the story. He decided that he could make it to the lunch break after all. 

When the children returned to their seats Mingo chose the first act of "Macbeth" for the children to perform. Parts were chosen and changed as the play progressed. The day was becoming increasingly warm, and as the temperature increased so did a peculiar odor. In the back of Mingo's mind a suspicion was growing. All the girls in the room began to inhale and frown. Within a few minutes all the boys began to nudge each other and grin. Their reaction confirmed Mingo's suspicion and he halted the class. He rose from his cramped position in Mr. Clover's chair and faced the roomful of children.

"Who spilled the castoreum?" Mingo's nose was twitching as the offensive odor increased in intensity with the heat. All the girls were holding their noses and all the boys were giggling. No one volunteered the answer to Mingo's question, but all forty eyes were focused on him to see how he would deal with the situation.

"Girls, you are dismissed for the lunch break. You may go now." As the girls rose and scurried out the door, the boys turned to each other with looks of suspicion. "Chuckie and Pauley, you may also leave now." The two little boys hurried after the girls.

"Now, boys, let's explore this rationally," Mingo said. Thaddeus Smallwood leaned over to Israel Boone and whispered, "What does that mean?" Israel shrugged and faced forward before Mingo could catch them whispering together. 

"Every one of you here knows what beaver castoreum is. And I admit that there is a certain panache to your prank. But such diversions do not advance the goal of educating your minds. Therefore, there must be some repercussions."

Thaddeus leaned over again but Israel shook his head before the question could be asked. He had no idea what Mingo had just said either. All of the boys looked at each other with puzzlement. August Himmel, the boldest, raised his hand. 

"Yes, August?"

"What do them words mean? None o' us understand what you just said. Air you speakin' English?"

"Yes, August, boys, I am speaking English. Over the lunch break I want each one of you to find out what one of these words mean." Mingo leaned over and wrote on the blackboard in a fine flowing hand: diversion, advance, repercussion. "There is a dictionary here in the room that you may use, or you may ask someone at home. But when we return we will discuss the meanings of these words. Any questions?"

None of the boys indicated that they had a question and Mingo released them for the hour lunch break. As they all rose to go, Mingo called Josiah Smallwood to his desk. The youth debated his best course of action. It was very unlikely that the tall man meant to whip him. There were switches in the room, but Mingo was making no move to gather one into his hand. He decided that the best course was to continue to try and bluff his way out of the situation. So he swaggered to the front of the room with pretended insouciance. Mingo continued to lean against Mr. Clover's short desk, waiting. He read the boy's attitude perfectly.

"Mr. Smallwood, please spell 'history'."

The boy did as he was asked, a sneer lifting his lip.

"Now please spell 'mystery'."

Again the boy complied.

"You spell well. Now, answer this question: Does you confrontational attitude serve you well, or ill?"

"What's that mean? Why don't you talk plain?"

"I am speaking plainly. An educated man would understand me. Do you wish to become an educated man? Or do you wish to remain ignorant of all the world's wonders?"

The boy stood silently before the unusual man. No one had ever talked to him like this before. Mr. Clover spoke with authority but retreated quickly. His father shouted and his mother whined, but no one just spoke quietly and waited for an answer. Against his will, he looked into the tall man's dark eyes. He saw amusement and understanding there, but no judgment or condemnation.

"Go on home, Josiah. And when you return I want you to tell me your answer. Is that something that you feel able to do?"

The boy did not answer but nodded in affirmation.

"I will see you in an hour. Enjoy your break." Mingo nodded at the door and the boy walked slowly toward it, then turned and looked back at the man with uncertainty. Mingo nodded again and the boy stepped over the threshold and was gone. Sighing, the teacher rose and walked the few yards into Cincinnatus' establishment for his lunch. Lost in thought, he did not notice the knot of people standing a few feet away, watching him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Abraham Smallwood ran the short distance home and burst through the door. "Hey, Ma, guess what! Our teacher's a Injun!" Pearly Smallwood froze with the iron skillet in her hands. 

"What did you say? Francis Clover is a Injun?"

"No, Ma, he's not there today. We're bein' taught by Mr. Boone's Injun."

"That high-toned fancy Cherokee?" Abraham nodded and grinned. Pearly slammed the skillet down on the plank table and walked toward the door, muttering. "We'll just see about this! That Boone fella has gone too far this time!"

On the way to the fort she passed Nathaniel, Thaddeus, and Pip. She questioned them about their "teacher" and received the same information, plus the fact that Josiah had been detained after the dismissal and was now being corrected for improper behavior. This information made Pearly Smallwood even angrier.

Her name did not suit her at all. Pearly Smallwood was a heavy woman, rough and uneducated. Her husband Ruben had insisted that the children attend Boonesborough's school. She had reluctantly accepted his decision, but had never agreed. And now her children were being "instructed" by a half-breed heathen. This was too much!

As she topped the final rise she met Josiah coming home for lunch. She grabbed the boy's arm tightly and turned him back around. Her high-pitched voice scolded him the entire way back to the fort. Mixed in with the scolding were words of indignation and anger. Her ranting made her son very uncomfortable as he compared her behavior against the behavior of his teacher. His mind whirled with the disparity.

Pearly burst into the fort right behind Timothy McCarthy. The little blonde Irishman was livid with anger. He dashed into the schoolroom, then wheeled and nearly collided with Pearly Smallwood and Josiah. The knot of gossipers outside Cincinnatus' store watched in satisfaction. Their conversation had all been in the same vein: it was terribly, terribly improper, no, downright WRONG, for a heathen to be instructing Christian children and something needed to be done. Now it looked like that something was about to occur. The crowd followed behind the two parents as they entered the store. They were primed to witness a very interesting confrontation.

Mingo and Cincinnatus looked up as the heavy wooden door burst inward. Pearly Smallwood was already ranting before her feet touched the plank floor. 

"Where's Dan'l Boone?" she addressed Cincinnatus, totally ignoring Mingo.

Before the lively storekeeper could answer, Timothy McCarthy pushed past her and stood in front of Mingo with both hands balled into fists on his narrow hips. "My Dolly came home with a bloody gash on her head! What kind o' teacher are you, you can't even keep my younguns safe?"

Before he could reply, Mingo's arm was poked by Pearly Smallwoods's pointed finger. "And what do you mean by scoldin' my Josiah? Nobody but me and the mister's got the right to be talkin' to my boy about his behavin'!"

Mingo addressed the small Irishman first. "Your daughter fell because another child fell against her. No one was at fault. We were engaged in a spelling contest and it was an accident. Children do have accidents, Mr. McCarthy."

Mingo's answer did nothing to ease McCarthy's anger. He pointed his finger at the Cherokee and raised his voice. "And Molly told us that you made Pauley cry! He's just five years old: don't you have any feelin' for the little ones?" Before Mingo could explain the situation that had caused Pauley to cry, Mrs. Smallwood poked his arm again.

"Ain't you got a answer for me? Scared to talk in front of all these witnesses, Injun?" Her baiting tone irritated Mingo but he maintained his composure. Behind his mother Josiah cringed in embarrassment.

"No Madam, I am not afraid to explain my actions. Did you ask Josiah about it?" 

"Air you sayin' that I cain't talk to my own youngin'?" Mrs. Smallwood's voice rose to a screech. Just at that moment Daniel walked through the crowd at the door.

"What's the trouble here? Mingo, Mrs. Smallwood, Mr. McCarthy?"

Pearly Smallwood and Tim McCarthy began to speak at once. The crowd at the door grinned in delight. Mingo stood in silent dignity, Cincinnatus beside him glowering. Josiah tried to make himself as small as possible and disappear.

Daniel was able to smooth the ruffled feathers by suggesting that Mrs. Smallwood and Mr. McCarthy spend the afternoon in the schoolhouse with the children. Neither adult wanted to be responsible for twenty children, just as Daniel suspected. They both huffed out the door, the crowd of spectators right behind them. The voices continued complaining as they shifted into the compound. Mingo sighed and looked at Daniel, his expression relaying his uncertainty. 

"How did it go this mornin', really?" Daniel asked.

"Very well, after we all got used to each other. Your daughter is a very perceptive youngster. I am afraid that I wounded Israel unintentionally, though. I'll tell you about it later. I need to get back to the schoolroom and find the beaver set before the children return. "

"Find the what?" Both Daniel and Cincinnatus said together.

"You heard me. The beaver set. A prank one or two of the boys played this morning. I suspect it was the Himmel boys. They arrived early and then went back outside. I should have been suspicious but I was too preoccupied to think straight."

The three men waved in farewell and Mingo stepped through the door. Daniel and Cincinnatus looked at each other and grinned.

Mingo sniffed out the beaver set and removed the stick that contained the oil. It had been carefully placed in a hole they had bored through the chinking. Mingo mixed a mud plug and pushed it into the small hole, hoping to seal the smell away from the classroom. The two windows and open door did little to dispel the scent as the day was both warm and still. 

When he finished the patch and walked back around to the front of the schoolhouse he saw Josiah standing against the far wall, nearly invisible in the building's shadow. Knowing that the boy was greatly embarrassed by his mother's behavior Mingo pretended not to see him, giving the boy the opportunity to begin the conversation when he was ready.

After a few minutes Mingo looked up as a shadow crossed in front of the door. Josiah silently approached Mr. Clover's desk. The boy reached out and lifted the volume of Shakespeare plays off of the desk. He swallowed, and keeping his eyes cast down began to speak.

"I want to know about the places you were talkin' about. I'm sorry about what I said. I do like that whenever Mr. Clover corrects me, and he always backs down. I know it's wrong to do it, but I like how it makes me feel. At least I used to." The youth fell silent. Mingo waited several seconds before he replied.

"It takes maturity to admit a wrong, Josiah. I accept your apology on one condition. I never want to hear from Mr. Clover that you have challenged his correction again. Agreed?" Mingo held out his slim brown hand to the boy. 

No one had ever done that before. Josiah looked at the outstretched hand and slowly placed his own against the Indian's. Mingo's hand closed around the boy's small hand and shook it three times. Then Josiah Smallwood beamed. Mingo smiled back and released his hand.

"And the next time that I am in Boonesborough, I would be pleased to tell you anything that you want to know about my travels. Alright?"

The boy's smile broadened into a grin and he nodded his head emphatically. The Custer children entered the door and right behind them came the other fifteen. The afternoon classes were ready to begin.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"First, children, we will be having a vocabulary lesson. Boys, what do the following words mean?" 

The fourteen boys had between them discovered the meanings of all three words. When the meanings were plugged into what Mingo had said, the boys understood that he meant that playing pranks may be fun but they took away from the learning process. The girls all wore smug looks but they learned the meanings of the words also, and so the lesson had the desired result.

Geography began with the land that was the setting for Macbeth. Mingo bent and drew a reasonable facsimile of the British Isles, with the focus on Scotland. They discussed vocabulary such as "moor", "highlands" and "cairn". Then they discussed the similarities between the highland mountains of Scotland and their own Appalachian chain. Most of the children remembered traveling over the eastern mountains so the lesson was easily understood. From the geography of Britain the students moved into history. Mingo explained how the Romans under Caesar had conquered the land of Britain. The class learned Latin phrases as Mingo was able to quote many passages from his memory. Jason Anderson even raised his hand to ask if he could memorize one of Caesar's passages describing the wild tribes that he found occupying Britain. The correlation between the wild men of Britain and the wild men of Kentucky struck a cord with the young Swede. Mingo arranged to meet with the youth the next day before school and give him a copy of several passages.

It was nearly time for the day's dismissal when Mingo began the math lesson. He was feeling much more confident than he had when he faced the schedule that morning, so he took the entire class outside to measure the angles made by the building's shade in relation to the walls. He then took them back inside and explained angles and circles, how the earth was divided into latitudes and longitudes and how men navigated using the relationships of the stars. When the angle of the sun indicated that it was mid-afternoon, Mingo laid his chalk on Mr. Clover's desk and faced the children one last time.

"Children, it has been a privilege to spend this day as your teacher. You have given me many new memories, and I thank you. Class is dismissed."

No one moved. After several seconds, Jason Anderson rose and began to clap his hands. The Himmel children followed suit, then the Boones, Smallwoods and Custers. Finally the McCarthy children joined in the applause. Mingo blushed and grinned, then made a graceful bow from the waist. The children laughed and exploded through the doorway, shouting and talking. The teacher stood a few more minutes inside the now empty classroom, then quietly walked over the threshold, saluted the empty room and closed the door behind him.

When Mingo arrived back at the Boone cabin he was greeted by Mr. Clover. Though his voice was rough, it was there. Becky's ministrations of honey and wild horehound had begun to take effect, and Mr. Clover was certain that he could resume his duties the following day. Having little appetite, the schoolmaster retired early with a hot toddy and fell asleep almost immediately.

That evening around the dinner table Jemima and Israel told their parents the same stories that were circulating around other supper tables of the community. Mingo sat silently listening to the children's view of the day, shaking his head at their perception of events. 

The overriding position was that Mingo was a very interesting teacher and they wished that he could be their teacher every day. Mingo would have been amazed to find that the same feeling was expressed in the McCarthy household, the Custer household, the Himmel household, the Anderson household and even the Smallwood household. Though the parents shook their heads at the idea, all twenty children understood that they had received a special gift from the tall Cherokee. Just what that gift was they had trouble putting into words. After Jemima and Israel were in bed, Rebecca Boone found the way to express the thought.

"The children all saw that education gives a man a perspective that they do not now have. And," Rebecca smiled at her friend sitting opposite her beside the fire, " they discovered that an Indian may possess something of value. They will never be able to forget the example that you set for them today. No matter what happens to them from this day forward, they will know one Indian as a person, a man. What an invaluable lesson you taught them! Who can foretell the limit of the reach that you gave them today?"

Mingo smiled at the pretty woman. He was very tired but very pleased. He now knew that he was capable of controlling a roomful of squirming children, and was able to impart knowledge to those squirmers. Deep in his heart he hoped that Rebecca was right in her assessment of the gains made in relations between Indian and white. He understood that such gains were often made one person to another. With that thought, he turned his gaze to Daniel dozing on the bench.

"Daniel, what will you do if the Smallwoods and McCarthys continue to complain about today?"

Daniel's light eyes twinkled as he looked full into his friend's face. "Mingo, I will suggest that they ease their minds by attempting to walk where angels fear to tred. And good luck!"

The three adults laughed companionably together. Rebecca glanced at the movement that caught her eye. "Israel Boone, what are you doing down here? You are supposed to be asleep, young man!"

Mingo turned his head to look at Israel standing in the center of the floor, his light nightshirt pinpointing his position. "Rebecca, I think that I am the cause. May I take Israel outside for a moment?"

Though she frowned, she agreed. "But only a few moments, Mingo. And no stargazing!"

Mingo nodded as he rose and beckoned the boy through the door. They walked to the edge of the porch and sat. Israel looked sideways out of the corner of his eyes. Mingo's head was bowed as he chose his words.

"Israel, I had no intention of embarrassing you today. I thought that you would remember "Macbeth". You said that you liked it when you gave it back to me. I am sorry. Will you accept my apology?"

"I guess," the little boy murmured.

Mingo heard the hesitation and explored farther. "Israel, what is really bothering you? Tell me, please."

Hanging his head, Israel whispered so quietly that Mingo had to bend far forward to hear the words. "The other boys called me 'Shakespeare' on the way home today. They'll keep doing it now. "

"I see. Do you consider that a bad name?"

"Not really. But I know they mean that I didn't know the answer. I looked stupid."

"Aaaah. Are you stupid, Israel?"

"I don't know. I don't seem to learn as fast as most of the other boys. I don't read real good."

"Israel, do you remember when you were with me and I got caught in the bear trap?" The boy nodded his head. "You learned very fast that time, didn't you? You remembered what your father and I had told you about the wilderness. You learn what you want to learn, son. All of us do. So, the goal now is for you to want to learn to read well. Until you want to do it, you won't be good at it. Understand?"

The blue eyes caught the moonlight and sparkled. Mingo could tell that the boy was thinking about what he had just said. In the silence the tree frogs buzzed. Far away, an owl hooted. A slight breeze rustled the tree leaves. Mingo leaned over and whispered, "Double double, toil and trouble, fire burn and caldron bubble." He grinned and ruffled Israel's hair. 

"Mingo, could you and me read that book together? I think I'd learn it better if I listened to you read it first. "

"Israel, I would be honored to be your private tutor."

The two rose and entered the cabin, their close bond restored. Teacher and pupil, they began that evening to find the magic that words could weave within a receptive mind. And that was Mingo's final lesson of the day.


End file.
